


Doctor's Orders

by Elizabeth Watson-Holmes (edye327)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Role Reversal, au johnlock, johnlock oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:25:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edye327/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Watson-Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's a detective and Sherlock's a doctor. John is trying to concentrate on solving a double murder, but Sherlock, who has five minutes before he has to go to the clinic, is being very distracting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently doing a thing where people submit AU Johnlock fic prompts to my tumblr and I write a drabble based on it (if you want to join in on the fun). This one was inspired by this prompt: http://lostinsherlock.tumblr.com/post/76005676268/au-johnlock-thing-john-becomes-the-detective-and
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I did this without basically any revisions, as it was a fun writing exercise, but I thought it was kinda cute, so try not to be too harsh :)

"John. John. John. John."

"Stop it, I’m working on a case."

"John."

John rolled his eyes and turned to look at his flatmate. “Is this really more important than a double murder?”

"Yes."

"I can guarantee it’s not." _Think, Watson._ He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. This didn’t add up.

"I have to go to the clinic in five minutes and forty-seven seconds," Sherlock announced. He was splayed out on the couch, tossing a rubber ball up in the air and catching it with robotic disinterest.

"Fine," said John, waving a hand vaguely. "Go save some lives."

"We have five minutes."

"I told you, I’m working on a case." The substances found on the first victim’s shoes were – shit. He clicked through the mess of tabs cluttering his screen and searched for Molly’s email.

"Stop it," snapped Sherlock.

"You’re cranky and you haven’t slept since Monday. Put two and two together, Doctor Holmes."

"It’s not my fault that moron thought it would be a good idea to operate a chainsaw –"

"You’re _hungry_ , Sherlock. The kitchen is that way.”

"I don’t feel like getting up." Sherlock paused. "Four minutes."

John refused to endorse such behavior (whiny Sherlock was one of his least favorite people to deal with, particularly when he was attempting to concentrate), and continued typing and clicking around for that goddamn autopsy. Type click type click type cli…

Long arms wrapped around his chest. Fuck.

“ _Sherlock.”_

"Shh. You’re working on a case."

He felt the smirk against his neck and really, really hated his life. Sherlock’s lips, tantalizingly soft, drifted down his jawline; the doctor’s weight was warm and heavy against his back.

"Three minutes."

"It’s double murder," John said insistently. "A _double murder_ , Sherlock.”

"What, am I distracting you?"

John caved. His fingers tangled in Sherlock’s curls, tongue tracing the contours of his boyfriend’s bottom lip, and suddenly they were tumbling onto the sofa.

"Serious case, is it?" Sherlock asked, cupping John’s neck and dragging him closer.

"It could be a serial killer," he replied. Sherlock sucked lightly on the skin between his collarbone and shoulder. “‘mmph. Could be dangerous."

The doctor pulled away, concern knitting his forehead. “Are you going to track him?” he asked softly.

"Maybe. If I can’t solve it from here."

Sherlock fisted the hem of John’s t-shirt, tugging the sleeve down and lightly pressing a kiss to the scar there. “You aren’t allowed to get hurt.”

John sighed and cradled his roommate’s face. Unflinching verdigris eyes – flooded with worry, at the moment – and those cheekbones and _lips,_ red and parted. It was suddenly very necessary to give them the attention they deserved.

"Don’t get hurt," Sherlock murmured, fingers slender and sure as they shifted against John’s spine. "One minute." He kissed the detective again, a long, slightly possessive kiss that made the older man rather forget how to breathe.

John let his eyelids drift shut, savoring the sensation of Sherlock’s lean, solid frame, every line and curve memorized – _I love you –_ and replied, ”Tall orders.”

Sherlock fixed him with a stern glance. “ _Doctor’s_ orders,” he said firmly, “doctor’s orders.”


End file.
